#rae gray

SUMMARY: Troy Otto does have feelings you know. Especially when it comes to his childhood friend, Jaymie. Whatever they are, they're rooted deep, and growing.

PAIRING: Troy Otto x OFC

TRIGGERS/ WARNINGS: Language and the typical FTWD stuff

WORD COUNT: Fuck if I know

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry I took so long getting this chapter together. I changed my mind on how I wanted to present an upcoming thing. On to the usual note: my plan is to follow along with season 3, but with Jaymie involved. I'll veer off and switch shit up a lot. It'll be in different characters' perspectives throughout the series. I'm not great at writing but I try my best. Hope you like it enough. All characters except OFC don't belong to me.

*******

Chapter 7

(Alicia's POV)

A moment ago I was dreading the thought of attending Gretchen's Bible study. However, as a freshly packed bong is passed my way, I am pleasantly surprised to find that my expectations were shattered. I asked about Geoff, whom Gretchen had mentioned at lunch. She exchanged guarded looks with the two boys and Jaymie, then got up and headed towards a barrel, in which she pulled out a smaller sized cage. In it was a living, decapitated head. She placed it on the table in front of me. Seeing the biggest threat to the human race vulnerable and behind thin bars had me feeling sovereign. The THC shrouded my mind and I laughed for the first time in what felt like ages.

"Geoff wants to know what it's like out there," Gretchen states on behalf of the snarling head, referring to life outside of the ranch; where the dead have taken over.

"Chaos, ruin, and it changes you; not like Geoff- something worse... Can I ask Geoff something?" Gretchen nods. "Who are the Ottos?"

Gretchen and the boys tell me all about the founding family, which leads to a comment about Geoff being indifferent about Troy. "Troy took Geoff's body," Gretchen whispers loudly.

"Troy's done a lot worse than that." They really have no clue. From the corner of my eye, I notice Jaymie shifting uncomfortably on the other end of the couch.

"Troy and the militia do what we can't. They protect us." Gretchen defends him after giving Jaymie a sympathetic look.

Dare I say it? Yes. I dare. "If people here knew what he really did at the border, everyone would feel differently. You would feel differently."

"Alicia." I meet Jaymie's eyes to see a silent plea for me to stop.

I think of what he did to Luciana's people. I think of Travis being thrown in a pit to fight the dead on Troy's command. I think of what would have happened to Nick if- "No. I don't get it, Jaymie. I don't understand how you can defend him the way you do when you know what he's done."

The girl looked somewhere between heartbroken and pissed. "You have no idea what he's really like, Alicia. And you haven't got a clue as to what he's done for me." She seemed to stop herself too late from saying the second part; like she didn't mean to say it out loud.

Now I'm curious. "Well why don't you tell me what he's really like!" Angry sarcasm spews from my lips. "And what the hell has he done for you that nullifies the murdering of innocent people?!"

***

7 years ago

After yet another long night of hitting the bottle, a very inebriated Jackie stumbled down the hallway to her own bedroom, passing her daughter's on the way. She slurred boisterously, "Jaymie, I'm home! Love you, sweetie!" as she staggered by. Jaymie huffed a sigh of exasperation, but yelled an "I love you too, Mom," anyway.

About 5 or so minutes later, she heard her mother throwing up through the thin walls. Jaymie rolled her eyes in annoyance, put her earbuds in, and fell asleep to some music to drown out the nauseating sounds in the room next to hers.

When she awoke in the late morning, Jaymie made her way to the kitchen to fix her mother the usual mug of green tea, a slice of buttered wheat toast, and a bottle of water to help with the hangover she knew Jackie would have.

Jaymie kicked gently at her mom's bedroom door as to knock, since her hands were full, then skillfully raised her leg up and turned the knob with her foot and toes. "Wake up, Mom. It's almost noon." Jaymie sat the tea, toast, and water on Jackie's dresser and made her way to the windows to open the curtains and blinds. "I need a ride to the ranch. I told Troy I'd help him clean out the stables today." She turns away from the brightness, the sunlight bringing the room to life; everything except- "Mom?" Jaymie stands frozen, time itself stopping, as her gaze falls on her mother's pale, lifeless body; vomit dried to her face and sheets.

Jackie's eyes are open, but she can't see her daughter rushing to her side; can't feel her daughter's hands grab her arm to shake her, only to pull back in horror at both the rigermortis which had set in, and the feel of her cold skin; can't hear her daughter's heartwrenching screams and cries; can't recognize the pleads coming from her daughter's lips to come back, to not leave her, telling her she loves her, becoming that little girl again calling her 'Mommy,' instead of 'Mom.'

After a short while, Jaymie called the Otto residence. Jake had been the one to answer the phone. In between the sobs and panicked breathing, he pieced together what happened. After alerting Troy and their father, Jake stayed on the phone with Jaymie for a bit longer while the other two went to help her.

Troy rushed into Jaymie and Jackie's home and found his best friend back against the wall in her mother's room with her arms around her legs, pulling them to her chest. He was at her side in no time at all, and she threw her arms around him, burying her face in the crook of his neck, letting the rest of her tears soak into his flannel shirt. He wrapped her up in his firm embrace, keeping her body snug up against his own. That was the first time Troy held Jaymie in his arms.

Jeremiah had called 9-1-1 after taking a long, sad look at his friend that he and his late wife had spent many nights drinking and playing cards with.

Once the police, EMTs, and coroner had arrived and done their jobs, and Jackie was taken away in a body bag, Jeremiah and Troy took Jaymie back home to the ranch. The two teens rode in the back of the pickup, Troy once again holding his friend in the comfort of his arms. He didn't know how to empathize much, but he hated seeing Jaymie so heartbroken. He wished he could take that pain from her; though there was something about that moment that had him feeling warm and, happy? Then he realized: it was because he felt needed. He was needed.

The Ottos had intended for Jaymie to stay there with them, but several days after Jackie's funeral, a woman from social services showed up. Apparently Jaymie's father, John, requested custody of her. This was completely unexpected, as John had left his daughter and her mother 5 years prior, with no contact since. Jaymie was stressed out far worse than any 12 year old should be, but what made matters worse was that John lived 8 hours away from the ranch. Jaymie was devastated, and frightened. Troy was already coming apart at the seams at the mention of her having to leave; she was his anchor.

They both held it together well enough thanks to daily phone calls. Little by little though, Jaymie's spirits seemed to dampen, her voice became meeker, and in the middle of a sentence she would suddenly state that she had to go, and hung up. Troy knew something was wrong. He wanted to go to her, to check on her, to rescue her from whatever it was that had her on edge; but he didn't know her father's address.

Some time later, Troy received a letter with Jaymie's name above the return address. He opened it in a hurry. However, as he read her heartfelt words, his eyes began uncharacteristically flooding, his face heated up and turned an angry shade of red, and then everything in his mind went black.